


maybe i could be the one (to ride into the setting sun tonight)

by RosaNautica



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Meetings, M/M, Misunderstandings, and Kimi still a rally driver, kinda awkward, where Seb is an office clerk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 17:29:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19114384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosaNautica/pseuds/RosaNautica
Summary: He outstretched his arm. “Kimi.”“Yeah.”“Well, I know you know. But still.”“Yeah… oh shi… oh, sorry! I’m Seb… Sebastian. Sadly, neither Loeb, nor Ogier.”///This is a small spin-off from the "castle of glass" story (but doesn’t matter if you haven’t read it)





	maybe i could be the one (to ride into the setting sun tonight)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to dear Anna_banana for encouragement to post this <3

Smell of fuel, dirt and speed filled his nostrils.

Seb often wondered what it would feel like. To actually race. He was eternally thankful to the state for the greatest blessing of his life: the lack of speed limits on highway. Everytime he was pushing the pedal to the ground, he felt like two more millimeters and he was going to take off.

He didn’t like the actual flying that much. Neither motorboats, although it was fun, too. But cars were his life.

Fast cars.

Fast life.

(The life he never had.)

Not the super-fancy sport beauties, such as the one Nico or their boss liked to flash around. They looked nice, yeah, they made you look better as well, but… Sebastian had a filthy comparison popping out of nowhere in his mind: like those sweet, polished guys that weren’t worth a dime in bed. He needed someone to manhandle him, in a way, make him feel… something.

A thrill; raw passion. Someone who didn’t mind dirt and scratches, who wasn’t going to break into pieces in the first crash.

Someone like those beasts here. (Referring to the cars, of course. Metaphorically. Sebastian was too old for the Cinderella stories.)

 _How awesome would it be to drive one?_ he was pondering, taking the tricky curves on bumpy roads in his daydream, clouds of hot dust hanging in the air…

Until a very real bump brought him out of it.

“Look where you are going, vittu!“ a raspy voice snapped in unison with Sebastian’s annoyed “Scheisse! Pass auf, Schwanzk…”[1] Only then he took in the racing shoes. And the overalls. Small Finnish flag on the waist, which after hearing the man speak didn’t come as a surprise, and a short but clear _KIMI_ next to it. Seb’s further complaints died in his throat. He looked all the way up, opened his mouth to apologize, but after a croaked “I’m sor…” he shamefully lost his voice again. This time not as much for shock or fright, as for the intense stare that met him. It was indeed Kimi Räikkönen in flesh and blood, and he grasped at Seb’s shoulders and moved him aside, without breaking the eye contact, then passed him by with a small tug of smile at thin lips.

Sebastian watched him go in awe, that determined swagger to his walk, talking to his navigator.

Kimi Räikkönen. The man, the myth, the legend. The one and only Iceman, way past his most glorious WRC days, the triumphant 2007 long gone, but still more than solid, and even in lower categories the same non-bullshitting, politically incorrect, media mocking rockstar, with his dry humour that had Seb choking back laughter while listening to the press conferences and interviews in earphones, during dull moments in office – and they were frequent.

So. He met Kimi. Well, _met_ wasn’t maybe the word, more like ran into him like an utter dumbass that he is, but yeah… and the only thing he managed was to call a world champion _a_ _dickhead_. At least he didn’t understand…

There was something strangely knee-buckling about the whole situation, which itself didn’t last longer than a few seconds, but it stayed on loop in slow motion in the German’s head throughout the whole race. The firm but gentle hold on his shoulders, Kimi’s surprised and somewhat intrigued look…

~

“I owe you something?” Kimi smirked when they crossed the paths afterwards. He had already changed from the overalls, the spectators had mostly left, and Seb realized he must look like an idiot once again, strolling around an empty track.

“Huh?” was the most reasonable sound he was able to produce.

“We met again,” Kimi explained dryly, as if it was obvious, then just waved his hand. “Nevermind.” And outstretched his arm. “Kimi.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I know you know. But still.”

“Yeah… oh shi… oh, sorry! I’m Seb… Sebastian. Sadly, neither Loeb, nor Ogier.”

“Guess I like you better than both,” the racer stated, matter-of-factly, and Seb realized he was still clutching the Finn’s hand in his disgustingly sweaty palm. He let go immediately and couldn’t help a flutter in his chest when Kimi didn’t wipe the hand in his shirt or something similar, just casually ran it through his hair. “So? I see you are hanging around, need to spend some free time?”

~

Kimi pushed him up the wall, nudging a thigh between his legs, licking into his mouth and yes, it _was_ raw passion, but it caught Seb off-guard and he didn’t feel quite ready for it. He went there with a whole different idea, he was fascinated by the pace notes and hoped to find out some details about them, or just have a talk about anything, really, but this… He wanted it, wanted _Kimi_ , sure, but not that way. Delusion yet again clawed at his chest and throat, painfully deep.

_All the same, you boys._

After all, he was foolish to believe for a moment that a _rally_ _driver_ could find him any interesting as a person. It was flattering enough that he apparently found him attractive as a man, but Seb’s integrity wouldn’t let him enjoy it.

He pushed the Finn off, stammered a _“sorry”_ not even knowing what for, and dashed out of the room. After hitting the lift button a couple of times, he took for the stairs. By the time he stumbled down to the ground floor and strode across the lobby, he heard the elevator ping behind his back and seconds later, a hand gripped at his arm.

“No, I am sorry,” came from behind him with unmistakable accent. Seb sighed deeply.

“I… look, it’s okay, no problem, I’m just… not that kinda guy.”

“That’s what I wanted to know,” content smirk clear in Kimi’s voice and when Seb, confused, finally dared to turn to him, he saw it reflected in those wide, expressive eyes. He wished he could just drown in them, two crystal clear Finnish lakes - as overused and banal as that metaphor is, it was the most accurate, and then again, Sebastian Vettel wasn’t a poet, he wasn’t anything, actually, and that’s why he wanted to drown and never have to come back to his life, the life without passion, without speed, without love. To the world without racing and Kimi.

Kimi who slid the hand down to entwine their fingers loosely enough for him to pull away. The German took a small step closer instead, vaguely realizing that they were still in the middle of the hotel lobby. But really, when did ever Kimi Räikkönen give a damn?

The question he still wasn’t sure how to articulate had to be readable from his face. Kimi squeezed his hand lightly before letting go and wrapped the arm around his shoulders instead.

“Hard to be famous, sometimes,” he shrugged and motioned his head in general direction of the hotel bar. “Want a drink? I will explain you the notes.”

He bluntly went and asked the receptionist for a pen and some sheets of paper, and Sebastian was trying to remember how to walk a straight line, making his way to the bar. He was dizzy enough without drinking, but he could use some liquid courage.

For everything he was planning to do. And it wasn’t just about Kimi. However they were going to end up, he finally realized one thing.

Being stuck in a job like his is the slowest kind of suicide.

First, Seb didn’t like slow things.

Second, he wanted to _live_.

 

[1] “Fuck! Watch out you dickhea…“

**Author's Note:**

> All fictional and stuff
> 
> On a side note: I don’t actually know if the "Do I owe you anything?" when you keep meeting a person is a thing in Finland, or anywhere in the world for that matter, but it is in my country and I just found it fitting...^^
> 
> Hope you enjoyed <3


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